


We’re Gonna Drown Someday (If We Don’t Settle Down)

by journaliar



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journaliar/pseuds/journaliar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Myka is going full on Exorcist and you want to talk about feelings?”   A tale of possession in three parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infestation

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is that it feels like I've been working on this since the beginning of time so please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Based entirely on this prompt and fill so much that I turned into a 15k word story. http://snakejuice.tumblr.com/post/73056140576/bering-wells-angels-and-demons

Myka and Helena have a complicated story.

Myka knows this.

There are too many endings and not enough beginnings. There are actions without words and narrations with incompatible dialogue. Myka only says what she thinks is right to Helena instead of what she really wants and those are always two very different things.

They are a bitter and morose romantic comedy that rivals any Shakespearean problem play.

It’s the middle of the night and Myka is drawn into the hallway by the rustle of movement and light spilling from the open door of a bedroom that has remained sealed and dark for nearly three years now.

She doesn’t think to grab her tesla or Farnsworth or even shout to Pete that there is clearly an intruder because her heart is hiking up into her throat with every step she takes down the hall, soft rustling growing louder in her ears.

Myka swallows as bright emotion fills her chest, boiling anger and trembling happiness sloshing together messily, while she clutches at the doorway with unsteady hands and stares at Helena’s back.

“What are you doing here?” Myka exhales, the words heavy like rocks on her tongue and Helena pauses in her unpacking before rolling her shoulders back and straightening. 

“I‘m sorry.” Helena murmurs, turning away from the open suitcase on her bed to face Myka and Myka swallows, looks at the other luggage stacked neatly within the room, at the open drawers and half full closet and swallows again before stepping inside. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I was being inconspicuous.”

Myka isn’t sure if Helena is apologizing for waking her from her restless sleep or for waking that feeling, craving, reckless and just a little doomed but either way Myka is alert and aware.

“What’re you doing here?” Myka demands again , glancing at the half unpacked baggage once more then at Helena who shifts, takes a breath that must taste like bravado because she squares her shoulders and smiles.

“The Regents have been kind enough to allow me to return from my…self appointed sabbatical.” Helena quips, lips turned up slightly but with weary dark eyes that are all over Myka for a moment. She turns away then, back to her suitcase to pull out more clothes that she fumbles instantly. “I’m sure Irene intended announcing my return in ominously dramatic fashion in the morning but it seems that….”

Helena’s words die out as Myka moves further into the room, right up behind her and Myka can remember every single time she’s ever been this close to Helena, some of them innocent but heart pounding and good and others so, so awful. 

Helena straightens, twisting a blouse in her hands and Myka breathes through the urge to press against her until they’re fused together, through the urge to dig her hands into her own chest and stop her insides from reacting to Helena so strongly. 

There are questions Myka wants to ask, confessions she wants to make, things she wants to yell but Helena half turns and shifts her weight backwards until they’re touching and Myka can’t do anything beyond breathing out against the nape of Helena’s neck.

A noise at the door and a throat clearing yanks at Myka’s attention and she takes a step away from Helena even as Pete lowers his Tesla and rubs at the back of his neck, a move that Myka immediately mimics.

“Sorry, I heard…” He trails off, tucking his gun in the waist of his sweats and Myka glances down at her own pajamas before crossing her arms over her stomach and walking towards him. “Stuff.”

“It’s-no…” Myka starts, shaking her head and glancing at Helena again who is watching her with quiet, dark eyes that make it hard to breathe and hard to think and hard to just be. “Helena’s back.”

And then she’s sliding passed him, into her own bedroom where she loses another night of sleep to thoughts of Helena.

***  
Helena has only been back for eight hours and already Myka is losing her mind. After a stern, decisive and startlingly sudden meeting with Mrs. Fredrick who, true to Helena’s words, had announced her full reinstatement as an agent along with a not so ominous threat directed at a grumpy Artie, Myka finds herself in the basement, sweating to the oldies and bruising her hands on a punching bag.

Myka moves quickly, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet and eyes focused on the black bag as her fists strike it over and over until her knuckles sting while Gloria Gaynor wails through the speakers Claudia was nice enough to rig up. She ignores the sound of the basement door opening, dancing around the punching bag before landing a kick near the top even as Pete’s familiar footsteps trudge down the stairs.

He doesn’t hesitate, even as Myka unleashes a flurry of punches and sweat drips from her chin. He only moves to turn down the music before going to hold the wobbling bag steady for her, bracing his sneakers against the mat when Myka lands another powerful kick.

“You have the weirdest taste in music.” Pete greets and Myka rolls her eyes.

“Shut up.” She grunts breathlessly.

“So…” He says, ignoring her request. He hesitates like he’s been holding the words in for a while, rolling them around in his mouth and deciding on the best way to spit them out without earning a slug to the shoulder. “Chicks, am I right?”

Myka rolls her eyes again at his heavy handedness and delivers three quick punches before dancing away a bit to take a breath. “Pete, don’t start with me.”

“I’m not trying to start anything.” Pete insists, slapping the bag in encouragement. Myka lunges forward swinging hard and wild and Pete grunts at the impact. “Listen, I’m sorry for interrupting last night. I just got a really strong vibe, ya know? If I’d known the love of your life was sneaking-”

“You didn’t interrupt anything. It was nothing.” Myka interjects, giving the bag a hard shove with two wrapped hands and Pete stumbles back before releasing the bag. 

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.” Pete sighs, scooping up a pair of punch mitts from the corner of the room and wriggling them onto his hands.

“Well, it was.” Myka bites out, sweat trickling down the back of her neck and her knuckles angry pink. “And, you know what? She’s not the love of my life, okay?”

Pete knows.

Myka is pretty sure Pete has always known but for as big as Pete’s mouth is, sometimes its not and that causes her stomach to twist uncomfortably. To think that Pete could see it before Myka, who was too stricken to notice what was wrapping her up and squeezing her tight until it was too late and she was eaten whole.

He knew even when she’d whispered the words for the first and only time in the passenger seat of the SUV as they sped away from Boone, Wisconsin.

“I’m in love with her.” Myka had laughed sadly, tears blurring her vision.

“Yeah.” Pete had said quiet and understanding, eyes focused on the road and Myka doesn’t think she ever loved him more. 

Now Pete claps his hand together, gesturing her closer and she goes throwing angry blows. She connects forcefully and Pete lets her, feinting punches and letting her counter him. 

“She’s not the love of my life.” Myka repeats like she’s trying to make it true and the sympathetic look in Pete’s eye makes her throw an elbow he barely manages to block. “ If she were, if that were true…”

He pushes back then, moving skillfully and connecting with his mitt when Myka fails to protect her head or her body. She absorbs a strike to the ribs with a wince and dances out of Pete’s reach. “So, what’re you going to do?”

“Nothing. I’m going to do nothing.” Myka huffs, putting her bruised hands on her knees and bowing her head. “What is love anyway, right? Just a bunch of chemicals in your brain, like, going haywire.”

“Technically.” Pete breathes out, sweat darkening the neck of his gray tee shirt. “But Mykes…”

“Then I can control it, ya know?” Myka says. “I’m smart, really smart, and it’s-it’s just like, mind over matter.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Mykes.” Pete sighs and she shakes her head.

“Pete, I begged her.” Myka swallows, looking up at him for a moment before straightening to fold her hands on top of her head in an attempt to open up her tightening lungs. “I begged her and she told me that she didn‘t belong here. She made her choice and it wasn’t here…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Pete coos and she blinks away the burn of tears with a self deprecating laugh that blisters down into her chest. 

Myka has been not in love, after Sam and before Helena. It was simple and lonely but being in love with Helena is somehow lonelier and way more complicated. Myka can do without that complication. 

“But she’s here now.” Pete says quietly, like that means something and Myka shakes her head.

“Drop it, Pete. Please.” Myka exhales and Pete stares at her for a long moment before nodding. 

“Yeah, okay. Okay.” Pete says, slapping his hands together and holding them up for Myka again.

***  
“Should I hate her?” Claudia asks and Myka looks up from the crate she is unloading, adjusting the goggles over her eyes absently. Claudia’s focus is still on her own partially unloaded crate, purple gloved hands removing artifacts methodically and Myka stops, watching nervousness bunch in Claudia’s shoulders and her features remain too blank to convey any sort of real nonchalance.

“Helena?” Myka asks dumbly and Claudia lifts a shoulder in a shrug, shifting the contents of the container but not really accomplishing anything. 

“I mean, she’s back and everything but she also kind of sucks. Ya know…as a person?” Claudia says, lifting her head to finally look up at Myka through the purple neutralizing glow of the room. Myka smiles a little at her, to ease the tension even as her stomach coils sickeningly at the direction of the conversation.

“She does, doesn’t she.” Myka finally sighs, pushing hair out of her face with the back of her hand. “But, that doesn’t mean that you have to hate her, Claude.”

“But you guys-” Claudia tries and Myka shakes her head, huffing out an awkward laugh because this shouldn’t be like picking sides in a break up. She and Helena would’ve had to be something more than convoluted and problematic for side picking to be necessary. 

“She cares about you Claudia. A lot.” Myka interrupts and Claudia rolls her eyes. “And-and she’s HG Wells for God’s sake. I mean, the things she could teach you…”

“Wouldn’t compare to what you’ve taught me.” Claudia stresses and Myka smiles at her affectionately. “She may be one of the smartest people in the history of the world … but you’re my family.”

“You’re getting all mushy on me, aren’t you?” Myka chuckles and Claudia shrugs.

“Sometimes mush is appropriate.” Claudia mutters with a grin and Myka sighs.

“You don’t have to hate her on my account, Claude.” She says firmly and Claudia nods.

“Noted.”

“So, I guess everyone kinda knows about my…” Myka nearly says crush but the word seems too small and narrow, she almost says love but that only makes her feel stupid. She trails off instead, looking away from Claudia and down into the crate in front of her. “It was pretty obvious?”

“You used to get this goofy smile…before.” Claudia says and Myka feels herself flush furiously at the comment, embarrassment heating her face. “Then you left when she went all big baddie on us-”

“I came back.” Myka interrupts needlessly but Claudia only smiles.

“And for that we are forever grateful. I‘m pretty sure you‘re the only reason Pete hasn‘t combusted or something.” She says, “But, dude, even when she was essentially a Pokemon, the way you looked at her…man…We were scared you‘d leave again after Boone.”

Myka inhales deeply, focusing on breathing through the feelings of foolishness making her stomach swim. Stupidity for feeling the way she did about Helena, for saying the things she did in that perfect suburban home in Wisconsin.

“She and I. We-we weren’t…” Myka tries, swallowing thickly and smiling wanly down into the container.

“It felt like you guys could‘ve...” Claudia murmurs gently and Myka breathes out slowly.

***

Myka has spent weeks trying to perfect avoiding Helena.

She still feels the lure to seek Helena out. A residual instinct that tugs warmly at her muscles and her mind but Myka actively and intentionally pushes against it, hard. 

When Helena is in the kitchen showing off the proficiency with small kitchen appliances that she acquired in Wisconsin or haunting the Warehouse’s aisles with a never ending list of inventory or curled into the arm of the couch in the living room of the B&B, Myka practices evasive maneuvers that nearly always involve awkward exits.

When there’s no artifact to chase or hunt or replace and Helena just seems to be everywhere, Myka runs. 

Literally. 

She wears out her cross trainers pretty quickly the first two weeks and Claudia wordlessly leaves a pair of brand new, top of the line sneakers on her bed that Myka wastes no time breaking in because Helena has commandeered the B&B library or because she had an accidental stand off with Helena outside of the bathroom or because Helena looked at her for a moment too long and nearly melted her insides.

Add to that an artifact dry streak that has lasted nearly a month that Myka would swear was triggered by Helena’s return and Myka’s endurance is off the charts. 

“Pete! Did you know that there’s a new restaurant opening in town?” Myka calls breathlessly as she limps back into the bed and breakfast after a particularly long run spurred on by waking to the sound of Helena’s laughter, sweet and dark, seeping up from the kitchen through her bedroom floorboards. 

Myka tugs out her headphones, slinging them around her sweaty neck and favoring the blister on her right foot. “It’s called Lord of the Wings. Ya know, like chicken wings and Tolkien…”

Myka trails off, limping into the dining room where only Helena is seated at the table, sipping tea demurely.

“Oh, hey,” Myka blurts, hesitating slightly while her stomach flutters, as she takes in the baked goods, fruit and cereal on the table top. “I thought you were Pete.”

“Should I be insulted?” Helena offers softly and Myka thinks that maybe her words are just a little uneasy. Myka takes a hesitant step backwards, glancing back at the door. 

“There are worst things to be mistaken for than Pete. I could‘ve thought you were Artie.” Myka says awkwardly, wiping at her sweaty face with her forearm before deciding she could probably jog another mile or ten. “Anyway, enjoy your breakfast.”

“Myka,…” Helena murmurs standing audibly when Myka turns to make a desperate break for the exit but Helena’s voice stops her effectively. “I…The other‘s should be along shortly. Artie is on his way to discuss a new curiosity.”

Myka has always had a thing with distance. She’s forever too near or too far. She’s spent an entire childhood too far away from her father and not long enough too close to Sam. There are perfect distances though, her warehouse family is a testament to that but she turns to Helena feels both the sprawling distance between them even as they breathe down one another‘s neck.

“Great.” Myka croaks helplessly, watching Helena pull her hair back restlessly before sitting again. Helena, for a moment, looks at her like she did when she was a hologram and Myka held her entire existence in her hands.

“So, Univille is erecting a restaurant in honor of JRR Tolkien?” Helena laughs, that naked expression shuttering away as she changes tactics and the shift in her tone causes Myka to square her shoulders expectantly. “Should I attribute this town’s quirky charm as reason for dedicating an eatery to such a juvenile author?”

Myka’s brain stalls, quite literally, and for a moment she only gapes at Helena. Helena leans back in her chair, sinking into her seat in this self satisfied way that makes Myka clench her teeth in frustration.

“Lord of the Wings is a food truck, actually.” Myka bites out, flushing deeply. “And, you seriously think Tolkien is childish?”

It’s the longest string of non-work related words that Myka has offered Helena since her return and Helena looks at her very carefully for a moment before snatching them up.

“Most of his work is long-winded and severely lacks in literary form.” Helena finally says like a gauntlet has been thrown. Like she knows that Myka has read Tolkien’s work over and over since she was a quiet, lonely, child in a bookstore dreaming of epic quests. Myka knows that she’s been baited, can see the challenge in the quirk in Helena’s brow but this is not like before when every argument was swollen with flirtation and instead Myka is surprised by the anger that rears up into her chest and lodges between her ribs.

“You cannot be serious.” Myka barks, startling both herself and Helena, who cocks her head in surprise.

The fact that Myka is currently arguing with H.G. Wells over literature is not lost on her but she ignores ludicrousness of it in favor of simmering anger. “Tolkien is-is a modern classic. How can you say that? His work is heroic and inspiring. ”

“As well as paternalistic and one dimensional.” Helena argues and Myka frowns, smoothing her hand over her sweaty ponytail. “Every character, either good or evil, black or white. Fantastical writing that is in no way grounded in reality at all.”

“Plenty of people would disagree with you.” Myka spits and Helena folds her arms even as Myka’s fists clench at her sides.

“And those people’s opinions matter more than that of the pioneer of the genre in which Tolkien’s novels are written?” Helena chides and Myka blushes furiously and feels stupid.

“You can be wrong.” Myka whispers irritably, staring down at Helena who frowns faintly.

“I can be.” She concedes finally, nearly apologetic but Myka ignores the atonement in her answer.

“There’s nothing wrong with…with believing there are good guys.” Myka bites out, staring hard at Helena then through her with a self deprecating laugh. 

“That seems impossible, doesn’t it.” Helena says lowly and Myka looks away as her sudden anger recedes, leaving her starkly aware of the flush of her cheeks and Helena on the other side of the table. “Even the best intentions can be the wrong ones. You must know that, Myka.”

Staring across the room at Helena, Myka is painfully aware of the shades of grey in her life. 

“I loved Tolkien, growing up.” Myka finally murmurs, folding her arms over her chest and Helena visibly breathes in. “I wanted to slay dragons and save the world.”

“I could write novels about a heroine such as you.” Helena exhales, eyes so soft and Myka hates the way that ember of anger is replaced by something more dense but gentler and somehow just as hot.

“Meeting time!” Claudia’s voice carries through the house and Myka is confusingly relieved.

Helena shifts in her chair, sitting straighter and, pulling a croissant from the pile on the tabletop but her eyes do not leave Myka even as Claudia bounds into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, you guys are already here.” She greets but she’s really only talking to Myka, eyes searching as she heads to sit down beside Helena. “Gold star agents, the two of you. How‘re the new kicks, BTW?”

“I have a blister.” Myka sighs, glancing down at her shoes and trying to fit her emotions back inside her chest the way they’re supposed to, so they’re no longer twisted and overflowing and reaching out for Helena.

“I can get you some insoles for that.” Claudia says, grabbing a blueberry muffin.

“How‘d the run go, Flo Jo?” Pete greets walking into the kitchen followed by Steve. He claps a hand down on Myka’s shoulder and she reaches up to squeeze it quickly. “Wanna race tomorrow morning? Loser does the winners inventory for a month?”

“Oh, can we get in on this?” Steve asks, sitting across from Claudia and picking up a box of cereal and two bowls from the tilted stack in the center of the table.

“Get in on what?” Abigail wonders, emerging from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder.

“Pete and Myka are gonna race for inventory tomorrow.” Claudia informs around a mouthful of food while pouring a glass of orange juice. “Breakfast looks awesome today. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Abigail smiles warmly, taking a seat at the head of the table while Pete sits, gesturing to the empty chair between him and Steve.

“Sit down, Mykes.” Pete says and Myka does even as Steve pours a bowl of cereal for her without asking.

“I’d like to get in on that bet.” Abigail laughs and Myka smiles a little as the energy in the room changes and eases into something familiar and warm. “I’ve got my money on Myka.” 

“Me too.” Claudia and Steve echo one another and Pete boos even as he piles sweet, fruit covered pastries onto his plate.

“You guys have no faith. I‘m like the wind.” He announces loudly, flexing his biceps and Myka grins at him before taking the milk from Steve and dousing her cereal. 

“You’re not going to beat me.” Myka mutters as Steve nudges the bowl towards her.

“Are to.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

Steve and Claudia snicker at Pete and Myka’s bickering. Myka glances across the table at Helena, catches indulgent longing on her features before looking away just as Artie bustles into the dining room.

“Myka. Claudia.” He says without so much as a good morning, pulling a file from the top of the stack of papers in his arms. “And HG. You guys are going to Tennessee.”

“Good morning to you too, Artie.” Myka says even though there’s a sinking feeling in her gut and Abigail smirks at her.

“Oh snap! Artie’s Angels are back together!” Claudia declares brightly even as Artie, somewhat, reluctantly hands her a file over the kitchen table and she takes it eagerly.

“You are not my angels.” Artie argues, handing Myka an identical file and she takes it with a nod, spoon hanging from her mouth to hide the way she clenches her jaw when the last file is given to Helena who sits primly across the table from her. 

“Yeah we are.” Claudia argues while Artie circles back around the table to drop into his own seat. “I’m talking original cast. Helena, with that hair, is clearly Jill. Myka is totally a Kelly. And I’m Sabrina, which is depressing but accurate.”

“Sabrina wasn’t so bad.” Myka offers absently, glancing at Helena across the table only to meet her dark eyes for a breathless moment before looking away.

It hasn’t gotten better, this thing between them. It is still swollen with unspoken words and repressed emotions and its been weeks but Myka still gets alternately pissed off and overjoyed at the sight of her. 

“Yeah, says Jacklyn Smith.” Claudia scoffs and Myka rolls her eyes, taking another bite of cereal. 

“I’m a Kelly too.” Jinks murmurs conspiratorially beside Myka, nudging her with his elbow and she smirks at him while he butters some toast.

“Yeah you are, Jinksy!” Pete says, offering a high five over Myka’s head that Steve reluctantly reciprocates. 

“I must admit that I’m unfamiliar with the reference but I’m sure Myka is correct.” Helena says kindly over the top of her own folder and Myka is watching her again before she can stop herself. Her name in Helena’s mouth causes the hair to rise along her forearms and Myka hates herself for it.

“I always thought Sabrina was hot.” Pete declares around a mouthful of muffin beside Claudia, leaning over and trying to get a look at her file, “She had some nice ‘hey hey hey’s’” 

“Gross.” Myka and Claudia say simultaneously while Jinks snickers quietly.

“Focus! Children!” Artie bellows loudly, demanding everyone’s attention with his fist against the table “I do not care who and who is not a ‘Kelly’. I care about the artifact in Tennessee that is driving people insane.”

“Insane?” Myka and Helena question at the same time and Myka clears her throat with a frown, feels Helena‘s eyes slide over her and frowns deeper.

“Yes, the artifact makes those effected think they are under demonic possession.” Artie supplies and Claudia shudders. “There have already been four cases of seemingly well adjusted people with no mental health history to speak of, committing suicide. The one connecting factor being that they all attended the same church.”

“Creepy.” Pete howls lowly, jabbing a finger into Myka’s side and she bats him away absently. “Hey, how come the chicks get to go retrieve the spooky artifact and me and Jinksy are stuck going to California to switch out Whitney Houston’s microphone? I mean, not that I’m complaining because Cali women are, like, va-va-voom but I kinda want to get my Ghostbusters on.” 

“You two are going to California because that artifact only affects women and the last time I checked, neither of you were identifying as female.” Artie grunts. 

“I don’t like labels.” Pete declares and Claudia laughs brightly.

“Don’t you have a plane to catch? Miss your flight and you two will be walking to California.” Artie threatens and Pete lifts his hands innocently.

“Yeah, lets go.” Jinks sighs, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Aw, Dad…” Pete whines but he follows, standing and stretching across the table to grab two bagels. 

“Pete.” Myka chastises and his expression turns innocent.

“They’re for the road.” He shrugs, “Check in when you guys get off the plane?”

“Yeah.” Myka says, indulging in Pete’s over-protectiveness that has only surged after Helena’s return. “As soon as we touch down.”

Helena watches them quietly from across the table for a moment before looking back at Artie. “So, what do we know about the artifact?”


	2. Oppression

-Oppression-

Returning to the Warehouse, returning to the place Helena knows she was always meant to be, feels akin to stretching a long dormant muscle. She’s not sure what finally prompted Artie to free her of her implied probationary period that was tacked on as a stipulation of her return, though she suspects Irene had a hand in her release, but she is grateful either way.

She is grateful even in the face of Pete and Claudia’s distrust, of Steve and Abigail’s pity, of Artie’s curt acceptance of her return and of Myka’s heartbreaking distance because Helena considers herself fortunate to even be able to face them at all.

And sometimes Boone seems like a fever dream. Like Helena had still been imprisoned by the regents and out of her own body except that was not the case. It was Helena knowingly masquerading as Emily Lake, tucking herself into a shell that simply could not hold all of her and eventually splintered apart in sharp, jagged, messy shards that had hurt everyone close to her upon detonation.

Helena climbs out of the car first, adjusting her sunglasses against the glare of the sun before watching Myka as she unfolds long limbs from excessively sized SUV. Abandoning cool, electric smelling conditioned air for the searing stagnate atmosphere of Tennessee and knows that there are cuts and slashes and nicks all along that body which Helena cannot always see but knows belong to her. 

Helena was sure that leaving Myka alone, even after she had moved on from Nate and Adelaide, was what was best. That staying away while Myka healed and forgot and moved on, was the right thing to do for both of them. But Helena had open wounds of her own that bore Myka Bering’s signature though forged by Helena’s own hand, carved into bones like a lovesick teenager would etch their devotion into the bodies of trees.

Helena wants to tell Myka about the lovely way her name is engraved across her ribs but Myka is rightfully distant, purposefully aloof in the most terrifying ways and Helena knows that means that she’s badly damaged the connection they share, perhaps beyond repair even, because their interactions since her return are jerking and repressed and so very bitter. 

Myka is angry with her and Myka is wounded by her and it feels like every time Helena reaches out to soothe the pain, she finds herself digging her fingers in instead.  

She doesn’t mean to but Helena is full of bluster and useless pride and that stirs Myka in a way that Helena hates, that deserves the way Myka‘s remarks turn sharp all their own and always, always leave Helena reeling, scrambling to put up her own caustic defenses even though she knows she should just let Myka’s fury burn her alive.

But Helena is weary that if she does let Myka’s pain burn her bones clean, the heat won’t be enough to solder them back together.

“Wow.” Claudia starts, shutting the passenger side door and shielding her eyes from the burning sun while looking upon the church in the center of the grounds. “This place is, like, aggressively catholic.”

The building is tall, vaulted roofs meeting in sharp points in the sky and the walls so purely white that they’re nearly painful to observe in the brilliant sunlight. The architecture is rudimentary and a iron fence surrounds the church where it sits alone in the middle of a field, the only vegetation being the yellowing grass and an old, gnarled, leafless tree that hovers too close to the church itself. 

“Let’s head inside. Interview the priest,” Myka says, turning away from the looming building and her eyes briefly meet Helena’s only to dart away as she widely circles the car, staying far away from Helena before diving back towards the car‘s rear. 

She remembers Myka pressed against her back that night she’d returned to the bed and breakfast, recalls how Myka had wordlessly given up her aisle seat to Helena only hours early, presumably sacrificing necessary leg room in favor of soothing Helena’s distaste for airliners and, more specifically, window seats and tucking herself behind a gentleman that enjoyed reclining far too much. “We can start off with a sweep. Try neutralizing whatever we can get our hands on with a focus on anything that looks particularly…artifact-y.”

“I can already tell there is some Susan Sarandon ala Dead Man Walking realness in there.” Claudia glances at Helena, simultaneously pitying and cautious and Helena offers her a weak smile as the trunk audibly clicks open. 

“I’ll speak with the priest.” Helena says quietly and Myka only nods before ducking into the trunk and rummaging through the supplies. “See if he’s involved in the goings on.”

Myka nods again, slamming the trunk and slinging a small drum of neutralizer over her shoulder. She shoves purple gloves into her back pocket and hands Claudia a static bag. “Claude and I will look for the artifact.”

Myka is stalking towards the church and away from Helena then, Claudia giving chase with a glance over her shoulder while Helena trudges after them.

*** 

Helena has no clue how it happens.

She’d hardly taken her eyes off of Myka, something she is consistently guilty of since her return, as she’d interviewed the catholic priest in the muggy interior of the church. She’d watched from the corner of her eye, from over the priests slender shoulders, as both Myka and Claudia had wandered through the pews and into the nooks of the place of worship, disappearing and re-emerging without drawing any unwanted attention from the few people inside of the church.

But when they leave with a promise to return in the morning, Myka is pale and nauseous, spending the ride to the hotel stretched out in the back of the rental vehicle with a hand thrown over her eyes.

“How do you feel?” Claudia asks quietly, kneeling at the side of the bed and pressing a damp towel to Myka’s forehead while Helena watches from the corner of the room she’s taken refuge in. “Maybe you’re just too delicate for a Tennessee summer.”

It’s best case scenario, really, that Myka has fallen ill from a long flight and raging heat but Helena knows that when it comes to artifacts, they never really manage best case scenarios.

Myka chuckles lowly at that before sitting up with a groan. “I don’t know. I was fine and then suddenly I…”

Myka trails off distractedly, eyes darting around the room quickly and Helena drops her arms from where they’re crossed over her chest.

“Are you alright?” Helena asks, stepping forward, away from the corner she’d taken refuge in but Myka ignores her with a frown.

“Do you hear that?” Myka finally asks quietly, lifting a hand to scratch her ear then shaking her head hard.

“Hear what?” Claudia asks, tilting her own head to listen but there’s only the ambient sound of the air conditioner coming to life and Helena’s stomach drops sickeningly. “I don’t hear anything.”

It feels like failure, the sinking feeling in her belly, and Helena can already imagine Artie’s accusing tone and Pete’s blustering anger at Myka being affected by the artifact in Helena’s presence. Logically, Helena knows she is not to blame but illogically, Helena adds this to the seemingly endless list of wrongs she’s committed against Myka Bering.

“It’s like…” Myka trails off, looking up at Helena with confusion in her green eyes. The sustained eye contact jolts Helena into action and she moves closer to the bed. “It’s whispering. You guys don’t hear that?”

“Myka, I don’t hear anything either.” Helena admits softly and realization dawns palpably across Myka’s features.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me.” Myka groans to herself, flopping backwards on the narrow hotel bed before sitting up again and hurriedly unbuttoning her sweat dampened blouse. “I didn’t even touch anything. I-I was wearing gloves. God, its hot in here.”

“Are you sure?” Helena wonders, eyes widening and cheeks flushing just a bit as Myka peels herself out of her dress shirt, leaving only a white tank top behind. 

“I am not Pete.” Myka declares and Helena is inclined to agree. “I-I do not just touch things. This is so unfair.”

“Wait, I’m lost…” Claudia interrupts even as Myka wilts backward into the mattress again, pulling a pillow over her face.

“I’m whammied.” She says into the cushion, hugging it to her face for a moment before flinging it away. 

“Seriously?” Claudia murmurs, wide eyed. “That is not good.”

“It most definitely is not.” Helena agrees and Myka looks up at her dejectedly. Helena knows that look, has become painfully familiar with it since her return. “But, unlike the previous victims, we are aware that there is an artifact in play and it must be inside of that church.”

“Right!” Claudia agrees. “So as long as Myka remembers that all of this stuff is artifact induced, then we can neutralize it without worrying about Myka pulling a Kurt Cobain.”

“Please, do not underestimate the strength of mental instability, Claudia.” Helena grimaces and Myka’s eyes turn towards the ceiling. “Madness is a formidable foe.”

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” Claudia questions and Helena tips her head in acknowledgment of Claudia's extensive history with psychiatric facilities.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence guys.” Myka exhales sarcastically, rubbing at her ear again and sitting up.“C’mon, we won’t be able to get back into the church until tomorrow so lets go interview some of the victims’ family so we'll know exactly what we're looking for. I really don’t want to sit around waiting to go insane.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Helena asks earnestly because her insides are still dense and cold with worry and Myka looks up at her with soft eyes and a nod.

“I promise.”

***  
One Millie Stabler has been attending Sacred Heart Catholic Church of Immaculate Conception for nearly all of her life and the same was true for her daughter, Nancy, who had only just returned to her position as the Sunday school teacher from medical leave due to a tragic miscarriage before coming into contact with the unknown artifact. Once the artifact had taken hold, it had only been a matter of days before she was found with a rope around her neck and her feet off the ground.

“She heard voices. Had terrible dreams.” Her mother says to them in her shuttered, warm living room. The whirl of the ceiling fan nearly drowns out her soft, teary voice but Helena listens intently, jotting down notes with trembling fingers and asking the appropriate questions but it feels like her skin is too hot, like she’s peeling apart as she pushes away thoughts of Christina anxiously.

Myka glances at her from beside her on the old fashioned couch. Her knees turned away so they don’t knock against Helena’s as she watches Helena's fingers twisting the pendent at her throat almost desperately before rubbing her knuckles against her own temple and standing.

“Mrs. Stabler, do you mind if we have a look around?” Myka asks and the crying woman shakes her head, dabbing at her eyes. “Claude, can you continue without us?”

Claudia nods from her seat in a high backed chair on the other side of the living room and Helena tries not to bolt from the room as a hot, clawing emotion pushes at her ribs while she follows Myka out of the sitting area. Helena gulps down air, reaching out with both arms to trail her fingertips over wallpaper on either side of the hallway to keep herself grounded and focusing on Myka as she follows her up the stairs. 

Helena thinks of how Myka had known that she was struggling, how Myka always seems to know, instead of remembering how Christina had felt wrapped in her arms that final time.

“Do you remember smelling fudge when there was no fudge?” Claudia’s voice fades as Helena trails behind Myka deeper into the house, heat sinks upon her shoulders and she runs two hands through her hair to peel it away from her neck.

She thinks she should thank Myka, maybe apologize, wants to do both of those things, but instead she stays silent and follows when Myka disappears into a bedroom.

“This is where she did it.” Myka murmurs as Helena steps further inside the room, her eyes trained on the open closet door. The place where Millie had stumbled upon her daughter’s lifeless body.

The oppressive feeling that had taken over Helena’s body is replaced by something cold and heavy and she breathes slowly.

“They’re laughing.” Myka says lowly, rubbing at the back of her neck absently and Helena fights the urge to trace the tight ligaments she knows she would find. She can imagine the tense tendon under warm skin. “The voices.”

Helena doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know help but she moves closer and Myka doesn’t move away, lets Helena wrap a reassuring hand around her elbow even as her breathing increases.

“They’re not real.” Helena reminds quietly, hand trailing down Myka’s arm like it has a mind of its own, fingering the rise of her knuckles briefly before falling away entirely. 

“I...yeah.” Myka swallows but her eyes are glassy and Helena is afraid to ask what those twisted, sneaky voices are whispering to Myka. Suddenly Myka sucks in a breath, blinking hard and the hand Helena had just touched jerks up to press against her ear even as she leans away from Helena.

“Myka.” Helena begins, worriedly, reaching out for her thoughtlessly and stopping short when Myka rears back.

“I’m sorry. I...they’re…” Myka rambles, blinking rapidly at Helena who pulls her own outstretched hand back quickly as if she’d been burned when a tear escapes Myka’s right eye, racing down the curve of her cheek and Myka offers that terrible broken smile that haunts Helena night and day. “ They’re talking about you.”

“Guys?” Claudia interrupts tentatively, stepping cautiously into the room and Myka absently lifts a hand to wipe at her eyes “I’m done interviewing. I think she’s told us everything she knows. Wanna jet?”

“Yeah.” Myka croaks, turning to leave and Helena does the same, ignoring Claudia’s concerned look as she follows but speaks quietly over her shoulder. “Claudia, maybe you can call Pete? See how soon he can get here?”  
***

“How are you feeling?” Helena asks even though she knows because Myka looks worn out and the side of her face, the ear she keeps rubbing at, is red with friction. It is late and Claudia is asleep on the rollaway bed they’d required because Artie is too frugal to pay for separate hotel rooms.

“Not great.” Myka half shrugs, offering a thin smile that draws Helena deeper into the bathroom greedily. She glances at the running shower and Myka gives the other half of a shrug. “The white noise kind of helps.”

Helena nods, eyes flicking down to where Myka‘s hands are clenched, white knuckled against the lip of the countertop. “What do they say? The voices?”

Myka’s mental health is deteriorating at an alarming rate, her focus waning increasingly as the day continued. By the time they interviewed the grandson of the third victim, an elderly, recently widowed man who worked for years as a janitor in the church before putting a gun in his mouth, Myka had grown listless and quiet, her mood veering almost violently.

Myka sighs now, turning away from Helena to turn on the faucet and the rush of water from the spout joins the gentle hiss of the shower and Helena watches as Myka begins methodically washing her hands. Slowly and with the tiny complimentary hotel soap between her palms, she lather and rinses over and over. “It doesn’t matter. They‘re not real, right?”

“Right.” Helena confirms firmly and Myka stops washing her hands, soap falling into the basin as she clenches her fist like she’s physically trying to stay in this moment.

“Did Claudia get in contact with Pete? Is he coming?” Her voice is a bit broken, her eyes a bit frantic when she looks at Helena in the reflection of the mirror while warm water runs over her pale knuckles and Helena steps closer and closer.

“He will be on the first plane available in the morning.” She says reassuringly, reaching to turn off the tap before very carefully, taking Myka’s wet hands into her own. Myka lets her smooth her fist open, one after the other until shaking fingers are stretched towards Helena.

“I’m losing it.” Myka admits quietly, gaze focused on Helena’s hands on hers and Helena only nods as she tangles their fingers together. Myka doesn’t pull away and Helena thrills at that, sliding their palms together and Myka’s eyes flutter closed. “It’s happening really fast. It feels like-like I'm spiraling out of control. Everything is just so loud.”

Helena is very familiar with the feeling though admittedly her descent into madness was slower, more sultry. “You are strong, Myka.”

Helena scratches her nails against Myka’s palms, watching her fingers curl in reaction. It’s the most contact they’ve had since Helena’s return and it feels like electricity under her skin, currents traversing along her bones and its been forever since Helena’s felt it. They’re touching now and Helena has no idea how she survived so long without being able to do such a simple thing.

She has no idea how she lived the way that she had, how she touched anyone else.

Helena kisses Myka's trembling fingertips, the jut of her knuckles before impulsively pressing a kiss to Myka’s forehead, shutting her eyes when she leans into the contact. Their height difference is nearly insignificant with Myka in only socks and Helena still in her boots and Myka wrenches a hand free to grip at Helena’s waist. Her lips trace over the fine arch of her eyebrow, brush against the soft curls at her temples.

“Keep doing that.” Myka murmurs and Helena kisses the bridge of her nose, both hands lifting to cradle Myka’s face and her thumb tracing the reddened skin near her ear. “It gets quiet when you do that.”

Her lips linger against Myka’s cheekbones, the gentle curve of her jaw, the soft skin her below her ear. 

This moment is greedy and gloriously intoxicating and Helena brushes her thumb across Myka’s lips and tries to calm her own thundering heart. It’s useless, honestly, because Myka whispers her name, turns her chin upwards and then Helena is offering a kiss to her mouth.

The way Myka’s lips part for her nearly instantly makes Helena moan softly and push her against the counter top. Myka tips her head back in offering, letting Helena pull deep kisses from her mouth. And Helena does so hungrily, eagerly tasting her tongue and teeth.

Teeth that bite down against Helena’s lip, hard enough to make her groan and then altogether too hard and when Helena jerks back with a yelp of pain it is not Myka grinning back at her with Helena’s blood smeared against her chin. 

“Myka.” Helena gasps while her mind chastises her for her own selfish hunger. Myka laughs lowly, eyes glazed like the only thing she is aware of is the voices that make her reach up and tug at her ear like a child with an earache. Helena’s mouth tastes metallic and she swallows. “Myka!”

There’s a strained breath and then Myka is there again, smile fading from her face instantly and a hand lifting to wipe at the blood bright on her face.

“Where did you go, just now?” Helena asks carefully and Myka is shaking now, hands folding into fists again while the shower drones on and on.

“I don’t know...” Is all Myka manages before she steps around Helena, careful not to touch, and out the door.

***  
Pete’s arrival is met, quite literally, with open arms the next morning in the middle of the hotel lobby.

Helena watches quietly as Myka slumps gratefully into his arms and they’re hugging. It is not the enthusiastic, child like leap into one another’s open arms that Helena had witnessed in the past when something had gone particularly right and it’s not the affectionate shift of weight into one another with Myka’s shoulder nudging Pete’s chest from before. It’s Myka sinking into his embrace and Pete pressing his mouth to her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut.

She is struck by how much their relationship has changed, has been aware of fine changes since her return but now it’s glaringly obvious. The hug only last a second, well, technically roughly five of them but it feels so much longer as Helena looks on with her bruised bottom lip.

The chair she’s sitting in on the other side of the lobby is definitely made for aesthetics instead of comfort but she opens the file Artie sent with Pete regarding artifacts that can cause such schizophrenic symptoms, across her knees and pretends to look at it while she steals glances across the room.

“What did you expect?” Claudia asks and Helena blinks away from the grateful curve of Myka’s back, away from Pete’s hand palming the back of her head and his lips moving against her ear, away from Myka’s hands twisted up desperately in his tee shirt, to look at Claudia who is watching her all too knowingly in a chair angled towards hers.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying but I am relieved that Pete has arrived. Myka needs him.” Helena mumbles and Claudia laughs, sounding entirely unamused.

“Myka and Pete have gotten really close. I mean, feelings wise.” She informs and Helena sighs. “Not that they weren’t close before but...I dunno, things changed between them...I think it had something to do with when they went all Pyka on us but I dunno….”

“Excuse me?” Helena croaks as dread fills her belly heavily.

“I..uh...it’s not important.” Claudia clears her throat.

“I’m glad Myka is able to confide in him.” Helena inhales thinly.

“So they have nothing to do with the reason why you look like someone stole your lunch money?” Claudia challenges and Helena scoffs, looking back at Myka and Pete.

“I am doing no such thing.” Helena argues and Claudia only nods. 

“Listen, I’ll be honest.” Claudia starts and the warning tone of her voice is not one Helena is familiar with. “You broke her. You’ve broken Myka lots of times. You’ve also gotten way more chances than you deserve but that last time…”

“I am...indescribably apologetic for the way I’ve mistreated Myka.” Helena admits softly and Claudia rolls her eyes.

“ So indescribably apologetic that you haven’t found the words to actually apologize? Instead you just blow back into town without any kind of explanation and think the two of you were just gonna go back to making eyes at each other in the Bronte aisle?” Claudia bites out, shaking her head and pushing away from the wall. “You’re kind of a jerk, HG.”

“So I should just fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness?” Helena hisses incredulously because it couldn’t possibly be that simple, not after everything she’s done and Claudia shrugs. "Is that it?"

“It’s kind of the least you could do.” Claudia scoffs and Helena grits her teeth because Claudia is right. “I mean, I was all ready to hate you. Like, that ice age you wanted to start once upon a time would have been no match for the level of cold shoulder I was prepared to give but Myka was the one who suggested that I...that all of us...be...civil.”

Helena sighs, dragging fingers through her hair before dropping her hand down to her mouth absently.

“And if she doesn’t grant me favor this time?” Helena wonders quietly and Claudia grimaces, tugging her Farnsworth out of her back pocket when it buzzes loudly.

“Then you didn’t deserve it.” She says before opening the Farnsworth and wandering away. “What’s up, Artie? Please tell me you know what we’re looking for? ‘Cause Myka is doing a scary accurate Emily Rose impression.”

***

The day is long. They spend it interviewing two more victim’s families, a young couple who volunteered at the church's rummage sale before being found holding hands in bed with matching ripped open wrists three days later.

The husband had succumbed to his injuries but the wife was in the ICU of the local hospital, in a comatose state.

The only reasoning the families could offer was that the couple had been struggling financially after both recently being laid off. Apparently the bills were piling up and they had lost their home.

Myka had begun muttering to herself around noon. Not the insane ramblings of someone in another world but forcefully whispered reminders that whatever was happening in her mind was not real. Helena’s already high anxiety at the situation skyrocketed and she’d spent the rest of the day close to Myka. In case of what, she wasn’t sure, but close nonetheless.

“I need to lie down.” Myka sighs when they finally return to the hotel room and Claudia follows her into the room while Helena and Pete watch wordlessly.

“I”m not certain we have much time.” Helena murmurs, staring at the hotel room door absently, her stomach twisting sickeningly. “We must find that artifact.”

“And we will. Artie’s working on it and the artifact is in that church. All of our victims were associated with that place in one way or another. It’s there.” Pete says lowly. “And tomorrow, I am going to go in there and tear that place apart until I find it.”

“And I’ll help.” Helena bites out seriously and when Pete chuckles she cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Why does bad stuff always happen when you're around?"

Helena expects more anger. She expects heat in his eyes and accusation wrapped like barbed wire about his tongue but instead Pete’s words are wry and worried but friendly. Like none of this is actually Helena’s fault at all.

Helena releases a breath as Pete's hand comes down warmly on her shoulder.

"I don't know." Helena mutters honestly and Pete's hand squeezes twice in quick succession.

"She's gonna be okay, HG." Pete says confidently even though there's a worried frown gathering his eyebrows. But he's saying it for Helena's benefit, not his own and the realization is almost startling. "She's come through worse."

He is trying to appease her guilt but his comment only saddens Helena.

"She has." Helena mutters as Pete's hand gives her shoulder another squeeze before dropping away.

“I’m gonna do some research. Keep an eye on her for me?” Pete asks, already walking away.

“Of course.” Helena answers and means it.  
***  
Helena’s eyes open to a darkened room and she’s halfway out of bed before Myka’s voice shatters the quiet of the hotel room. 

Her scream is raw and so terror filled that Helena cries out too, stumbling from the tangle of her bedding to where Myka is struggling within a nightmare, eyes open and unseeing and limbs flailing recklessly.

“What’s going on?!” Claudia yelps, clambering up from her cot on the other side of the small hotel room just as Myka screams again and Helena glances at the fear on Claudia’s face before lunging towards the bed.

“Myka.” Helena breathes then shouts, cupping her face carefully and attempting to guide blind green eyes to her own. “Myka, look at me.”

She screams again, the sound pulling from deep inside of her chest, grating up her throat. Helena’s hands tighten, Myka’s jaw flexing against her palms with the power of her cries. Claudia must flip a switch because the room fills with blinding white light from the lamp mounted between the beds.

“Myka, wake up!” Helena barks and suddenly Claudia is there, throwing a complimentary pitcher of water right into Myka’s face 

Myka jerks upwards with a sputtering gasp and before Helena can move, two hands are curled around her throat and Myka is blinking at her, wild eyed and teeth bared. Helena watches Myka’s pupils constrict against the light in the room even as the fingers at her neck tighten.

“Mykes,” Claudia’s voice is low as Helena wraps both hands around Myka’s slim wrists. “Mykes, let her go.”

“Myka, please.” Helena manages and she watches awareness flood Myka’s features, wet hair clinging to the side of her face as she deliberately releases her hold on Helena.

“I’m sorry.” Myka croaks but she’s still staring at Helena like she’s grown a second head. “I had the worst dream.”

Helena doesn’t let go of Myka immediately, only holds onto her arm for a moment while Myka’s pulse thunders against her thumb until Myka absently wrenches herself free and eases back on the bed until her back is against the headboard. 

“You were screaming.” Helena says, glancing back at Claudia who looks shaken, a pink plastic pitcher still dangling in her hand.

“Dude, are you…” Claudia croaks and Myka wipes her damp cheek her on shoulder, offering her a shaky smile. 

“I’m okay.” Myka whispers but Helena can see that her hands are shaking, that her lip is trembling.

“Claudia, won’t you go fetch Pete?” Helena asks over her shoulder and Claudia looks to Myka, as if she expects her to tell her that she’s fine and that she shouldn’t wake up Pete but Myka is watching Helena very very closely.

“Yeah, okay.” Claudia nods before darting out of the door and Helena focuses on Myka again.

“You need to cuff me.” Myka says carefully once they're alone and Helena shakes her head. “The voices... Helena, I can’t….I need you to handcuff me.”

So Helena does, digging Myka’s handcuffs out of her bag wordlessly and threading them through the slots in the headboard before clamping them firmly around Myka’s wrist.

There are pink lines along the length of her neck, shorter angry scratches that bite into her bicep, deep gouges in the back of her hands where the skin has been ripped away. Self inflicted wounds she must’ve done in her sleep.

Myka is quiet and still, eyes closed but brows drawn together like she’s listening intently to something beyond their out of sync breathing. 

“Myka.” Helena says gently and Myka opens her eyes, the distant gaze of her eyes is listless and Helena’s inside churn coldly at the sight of Myka drowning in the power of the artifact. “What have you done to yourself?”

Myka blinks slowly, shaking her head hard before watching Helena with unfocused green eyes. “I'm angry.”

“At what?” Helena questions breathlessly, handcuffs clanking noisily as Myka’s hands shift and Helena aches to smooth her palm along Myka’s and offer reassurance but Myka’s mouth is twisting into the prettiest snarl.

“You.” She spits and Helena exhales shakily, lets the word burn along her spine. She closes her eyes at the sight of Myka twisting against the handcuffs. “I hate you.”

“Myka, I care for you very deeply.” Helena insists and the words are clean and pure and honest as they leave her tongue because right now, in this terrible moment, is the first time she’s spoken them aloud but Myka only laughs darkly in the face of them tugging hard at her shackles. 

“Every time the warehouse and I mix, lives are ruined.” Myka hisses mockingly and Helena flinches, pulling a hand through her hair anxiously. The words she’d thrown at Myka in Boone, before she’d let Myka leave with only the promise of coffee, of all things,sound silly and Helena breathes through her teeth.

“Myka, you must know that I wouldn't...” Helena begins but trails off because it's a lie. She would hurt Myka, she has. “I-I… It seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.” 

“Don’t lie to me...” She says. “You’ve never done anything just for me.”

“Stop it, Myka.” Helena demands loudly and Myka smiles up at her, tears filling her eyes and she finds herself lurching forward towards the bed again. “Please. Stop.”

“Maybe it’s not you.” Myka murmurs, her eyes going soft and helpless as madness spins deceit in her mind. “Maybe I’m the thing you should be running from.”

“I made a mistake leaving you.” Helena bites out and Myka takes a shuddering breath, tears trickling free and racing back into her hair. “I was confused and-and scared but I am so deeply sorry that I left the way I did. That I let you think that I did not need you any longer.”

“You felt like you belonged outside of the warehouse. You said it. You said it.” Myka hiccups before gazing blindly up at the ceiling. “And I just wanted you to come back. To suffocate you here because I’m…I’m…I just want to wrap myself around you and smother you…”

Helena cups her face, turning wet, red eyes towards her own and Myka looks so apologetic that Helena’s stomach sinks and sinks and sinks.

“I can’t keep...I can’t stop the voices.” Myka gasps, “They want me to go away, disappear, to let you kill me. You want to, don’t you?”

“I would never…” Helena swallows, glancing at the door and praying that Pete and Claudia return.

“You could.” Myka whispers, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head hard. “You’ve killed me before, you know. More than once.”

“Myka…” Helena moans sickly, nausea rising in a burning wave while regret and remorse struggle within her chest. She watches Myka be tugged swiftly beneath the rush of darkness and Helena drags in a ragged breath.

“At Dickinson’s funeral.....In- In Warehouse 2, do you remember that? That was the second time you pulled a gun on me…the first time didn’t feel like death at all though.” Myka rambles, closing her eyes but her face is still turned to Helena who stands stock still over her. 

“Then you...saved me. Artie says that you..When you came back, you came back without me. And then there was the last time…I think that one hurt the most. It feels-sometimes it feels like I’m carrying around a gaping hole in my chest that just doesn’t heal.”

“Myka, please.” Helena pleads, garnering Myka’s bright green gaze and it’s entirely unsettling how unfamiliar Myka is in this moment.

“Please do it…” Myka whispers. “I won’t be mad. I promise.”

“Myka, I love you far too much to-to.” Helena blurts just as the hotel door opens and Pete and Claudia enter the room with matching frowns.

“What the hell is going on?” Pete demands, shoving past Helena and Myka whimpers at the sight of him.

“Dude, Myka is going full on Exorcist and you want to talk about feelings?” Claudia accuses and Helena ignores her, focusing on breathing through the tightness in her chest.

She stumbles out into the hallway, tugging at her hair anxiously as Claudia chases her out of the room.  
“Helena, what happened in there?” Claudia asks and Helena can only shake her head, sucking in useless mouthfuls of air.

“We have to find that artifact.” Helena declares. “Tonight. She does not have much time.”

She's bordering on hysteric and Claudia steps close, putting two hands on her shoulders and catching Helena's wild eyes. “We have to help her.”

“Okay. Okay.” Claudia nods.

***

“Is there anything creepier than a church in the middle of the night?” Claudia asks as the front door creeks open and Helena is inclined to agree as she steps tentatively into the building, her flashlight slicing into the darkness.

The question goes unanswered as Myka hesitates in the doorway and Pete tightens his grip on her arm, leaning in slightly. “C'mon Mykes, lets end this.”

And the way Myka looks to him makes Helena look away, stepping further into the darkened space. She's anxious to begin looking, to find the artifact and yank Myka back from the brink of madness. 

“There we go.” Pete murmurs and Helena doesn't have to look to know Myka has walked over the threshold.

They move by light of flashlight as to not draw attention to the church and they bag anything that moves and goo everything that doesn't. In the morning, the priest will probably have some sort of coronary but right now, Myka is babbling quietly in the corner while they work.

“There's nothing.” Claudia says quietly, glancing at Myka before swinging her flashlight around the pews. “Maybe we should split up.”

“I'll check the room there.” Helena says gesturing towards the room off to the side of the pews and Claudia nods. “Perhaps you and Pete could check out the basement.”

“Uh, very creepy but okay.” Claudia sighs and Helena places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I do not have to remind you that time is of the essence.” Helena murmurs, glancing at Myka again and Claudia nods.

“We're on it. Let's bag this nasty thing.” Claudia says and Helena squeezes her shoulder one last time before heading towards the room.

The room appears to be a children's Sunday school room. There are brightly colored posters and cut outs on the walls and colorful carpet beneath Helena's boots that quiets her footsteps as she walks.

There's a box of toys that squeak and ring when Helena kneels to carefully sift through them. Some toys look to be nearly new and others are made depressing by time but Helena begins methodically bagging them.

“Myka!” Pete's booming voice startles Helena and she stops picking through the bits and pieces of various board games, standing quickly. “Myka! Where are you?”

Helena's adrenaline rushes suddenly but when she turns to sprint form the room there is Myka, looming in the darkness.

“Myka!” Helena yelps and Myka smiles slow and unfamiliar while Helena clutches at her own chest.

“What're you doing, Helena?” Myka asks lowly, stepping into the room further and Helena straightens at the threatening tone in her voice. 

“Searching for the artifact that has clearly affected you.” Helena answers quietly, glancing towards the doorway behind Myka. “Pete, she's here!”

“Don't touch it.” Myka murmurs and when Helena shines her flashlight on her face, Myka's eyes are focused on the floor in front of the toy box, at the scatter of miscellaneous game pieces. Helena follows her gaze and she notices the decrepit planchette among shining new toys then and her hand tightens on the static bag in her hand, her purple gloves feeling particularly useless since Myka had been also wearing the appropriate gear when she succumbed. 

“Myka-” Helena begins carefully but when she turns her eyes back to Myka it is too late. The brute force in which Myka throws herself into Helena, the power of her head hitting the thin carpet so hard that she feels the concrete underneath, dazes her and she can only slur Myka's name as the woman picks up the game piece, disappearing as everything goes black.

***  
Helena comes to alone and in the dark.

She listens for any sign of movement in the room but there's none. She sits up slowly, fumbling for the still glowing flashlight beside her and crawling to her feet. She reaches for her Farnsworth but suddenly there's a whisper in her ear, ghosting past her head and Helena jerks, stumbling to her feet. She jerks her gun free, spinning in place frantically and there are more whispers, too many suddenly and Helena swallows thickly and remembers the artifact.

She tucks the gun away and scoops up the Farnsworth and calls Claudia and Pete, walking out of the Sunday school room carefully and into the main area of the church and that's when she hears it, the faint buzz of the Farnsworth she's currently trying to reach. She stumbles over what is a broken Tesla when Helena shines her light on it and Helena's adrenaline rushes as she heads towards the basement, following the sound of the ringing Farnsworth.

“Pete? Claudia?” Helena calls, stepping down the wooden stairs to the basement carefully, gun drawn and Farnsworth tucked away again.

“We're down here.” Claudia's voice answers quietly and Helena follows it down and into the basement and the sight before her makes her breath catch.  
Pete is face down on the floor, sprawled on the dirty cement and Myka is crouched over him, gun raised and bleary eyes focused across the cellar where Claudia is standing very, very still.

“Myka?”

“I know who you are.”Myka’s voice is low, darker than Helena ever assumed possible. Her words dragging and slow, scraping past her lips and making Helena’s skin feel as though its pulling away from her flesh. Helena watches Myka, leaned over Pete’s unresponsive body on the cellar floor, her shoulders hunched and spine curved, as if a creature has taken over her very bones.

And to an extent, that is exactly what has happened. The spirit board planchette is clutched in Myka’s hand, the jagged edges digging into her skin. 

She's read of this particular artifact.

Elijah Bond’s first patented planchette that was the start of countless knock offs of the original planchettes used in ancient China to contact the dead. According to the file, the bastardization of the spiritual artifact caused auditory and visual hallucinations, changes in personality and countless other effects that all presented as demonic possession. Unlike most artifacts, this one only affected those susceptible, emotionally unstable people. Victims often times caused physical harm to themselves and others.

Helena knows that she played a large role in the reason why Myka was so vulnerable to the artifacts energy. 

“I know who you are.” Myka hiss again and Helena swallows as she edges deeper into the church’s cellar, glancing at Claudia where she is cowering in the corner of the room, sniffling and holding a hand to what will surely be an awful bruise to her eye, before focusing on Pete’s unconscious form, on Myka perched along his legs like a Gargoyle and the gun pressed to the middle of his back.

“Who am I?” Helena whispers, pointing her gun at Myka with shaking arms and ignoring the whispering within her own head. “Tell me?”

“Michael.” Myka says after a moment, spits the words at Helena’s feet before lifting a hand to scratch at her face and neck, leaving bright red lines down her cheek. “Here to destroy me.”

“You are not Satan, Myka.” Helena bites out, muscles tightening as Pete shifts, dragging Myka’s attention.

“Aren’t I?” Myka laughs, cocking her gun loudly in the cold, wet, room. 

“Myka! No!” Helena’s voice mixes with Claudia’s and Helena moves forward two long steps, cocking her gun too and Myka looks up at her in awe, eyes too glazed and mouth too wide.

“Helena.” Myka laughs, teeth sharp and skin pallid in the dim light and shadows that seem to grow darker and darker.

“I am no angel.” Helena points out and Myka frowns, shaking her head before focusing on Claudia across the room.

“Tell her. Tell her that she is…good.” Myka insists and Claudia only shrinks. “That it was me. It was me twisted around her like a snake.”

“Myka, please stop this.” Claudia says lowly and Myka stares at her unblinkingly for a long time, gun slowly lifting away from Pete’s spine and towards Claudia.

“Myka. Myka.” Helena interjects, stepping in front of the gun but Myka only stares through her, head tilted to the side. “Myka!”

Her attention shifts to Helena finally and being in her line of sight causes Helena’s hair to stand on end. The voices in her head are chanting Myka’s name, over and over, like wind through trees and Helena swallows.

“Myka, darling, I need you to give me that.” Helena says firmly and Myka grins, dragging the tip of the artifact against the cement floor idly and her gun never waivers from Helena.

“It’s mine.”

“Love, we can either do this the easy way. “Helena says and Myka, bends her arm and rubs at her temple with the muzzle of her gun. “Or the hard way.”

“Helena.” Myka sighs almost lovingly, gazing up at Helena. “Do you remember what you told me? In Boon?”

“Myka, put the gun down.” Helena pleads even as the voices in her own head begin begging her to shoot Myka. Hissing like broken sprinklers.

“Say it, Helena. Say it again.” Myka pleads, tears filling her eyes and Helena hates herself so much in this moment. The voices in her head laugh, loud and cruel and ringing in her ears.

“Myka. No.”

“Tell me again how it felt to belong somewhere for the first time in over a century.” Myka challenges, voice catching on a sob and the muzzle of her gun droops towards the floor. “And I will tell you how it felt to hear you say that and have that place not be with me.”

“Stop it, Myka!” Helena cries out even as Pete groans and tries to move his arms. Myka just ignores him, rising to her feet instead and never taking her eyes off of Helena.

“It’s over.” Myka murmurs, smiling so sadly.

“I was wrong, Myka. You and I...we could never be finished.” Helena says and Myka shakes her head.

“It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.” Myka mutters again and again and then her gun is lifting to press underneath her own jaw, the mouth of the gun pressing into the soft underside of her chin.

Claudia screams and Helena can only cry out because the distance between them is too great. 

And Helena vows, in a single moment, to listen to every childish, embellished, nostalgic tale Pete ever speaks of pertaining to his college wrestling days as he jerks upwards in one quick movement only to tackle Myka to the ground in a move she is sure she’s witnessed in the entertainment wrestling program he and Claudia insists she need to watch.

The gunshot echoes against the stone walls, an overhead wooden support beam splintering apart as the gun and planchette skitter away then everything is deafeningly still and Helena wonders if anything will ever move again.

***  
“You’re up late.” Helena looks away from the mind numbing infomercial for non stick cookware and at Claudia leaning in the doorway of the sitting area as if there is nothing strange regarding finding Helena sitting alone in the dark at four in the morning. “In the market for new pots and pans?”

“That is a waste of technology.” Helena mutters and Claudia grins ruefully, folding her arms over her chest. In this light, bruise on the side of Claudia’s face is hideous, purples yellows and greens swirling grossly around her eye and there’s a pang of guilt that rattles in Helena’s chest when she thinks of the way Myka has been carefully avoiding the girl.

In fact, Myka has been avoiding all of them for the most part and while Helena has become quite familiar with how elusive she is capable of being, the others seem at a lost.

“Ah yes, the struggle of the big brained. Having to witness other peoples small fry ideas. We can't all build functioning time machines, HG.” Claudia sighs knowingly and Helena arches an eyebrow. “So, whatcha doing up?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Helena mutters and Claudia yawns her way through a sound of agreement.

“I’m with you, man. I think I’m still jetlagged or something.” Claudia says, stretching her arms over her head dramatically. “So…”

“So?” Helena challenges, giving Claudia and her terribly awkward segways her full attention.

“You know what’s funny?” Claudia wonders in that distinct way that lets Helena know that whatever comes out of her mouth next will not, in fact, be funny. “You’re up at this ungodly hour and upstairs, Myka is also awake. I can see the light shining from underneath her door.”

“There’s nothing humorous about the plague of insomnia that is apparently running rampant throughout this bed and breakfast.” Helena points out and Claudia rolls her eyes.

“Look, I couldn’t help but notice that Myka isn’t talking to you.” Claudia changes tactics and Helena frowns at her.

“I am fairly certain that Myka isn’t speaking to you or Pete either.” Helena points out defensively and Claudia only shrugs.

“She’s not talking to us because she feels really bad about kicking the snot out of us. Pete and I already have a plan to fix that. It involves a lot of ice cream and hockey.  She’s not talking to you because you suck.”

“I do no such thing.” Helena squawks and Claudia laughs.

“Yeah, you do.” Claudia affirms and Helena crosses her arms over her chest, sinking into the sofa cushions. “And there’s no better time to go upstairs and apologize for sucking so much than four o'clock  in the morning. Am I right?”

Helena remains quiet, eyes sliding back to the television blindly while fear and guilt braid together in her abdomen. Claudia is right, of course An annoying trait she’s seemed to pick up from somewhere. 

It’s been nearly a week since their return from Tennessee and the first days after their homecoming had been spent recovering. Helena had spent an entire day in a heavy sleep thanks to her brief brush with the artifact but Myka had remained nearly unarousable for four days. Not a coma, Dr. Calder had assured them all over and over, but a deep slumber her body required to help her mind heal.

But the last two days Myka had been awake but quiet, splitting her time either locked in her bedroom or at the Warehouse with Artie. Careful to spend only passing moments with Claudia and Pete, in which she can barely meet their gazes. Helena thinks of the way Myka is entirely avoiding her now, even better than during her initial return.

“I suppose you are not wrong.” Helena finally croaks and Claudia does a slow fist pump. “But what if she is not in the mood to speak with me?”

“Everyone knows Myka’s most chatty in the middle of the night. Can’t shut her up, I swear.” Claudia points out and Helena does recall that quirk. While she would not label Myka ‘chatty, Helena remembers long conversations in the early morning and Myka’s open, tired smiles.

“She’ll send me away.” Helena sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration before dropping her arm to finger her locket.

“She might.” Claudia shrugs. “And if she does you’ll just have to try tomorrow and the day after and the day after that but eventually she’ll at least listen to you.”

Helena nods but doesn’t move, her legs like lead.

“Don’t be a chicken shit, HG.” Claudia says and Helena frowns.

" Excuse me?” 

“A coward. A wimp. A lily-livered craven scaredy cat.” Claudia clarifies and Helena flushes before standing on her heavy legs.

“It would seem your taunting is moderately effective.” Helena grunts, straightening her sleeping shirt. “Though, let it be known that if it weren’t for my ego, this tactic would not work.”

“Yeah, well, if it weren’t for your ego, you’d be having a lot less drama.” Claudia points out and Helena laughs faintly.

“Thank you, Claudia.”

“Anytime, HG.” Claudia salutes lazily. 

“Do you care to enlighten me about that...Pyka situation you mentioned earlier?” Helena asks, hesitating for a moment and Claudia winces.

“Do you honestly wish to be enlightened about that?” Claudia challenges and Helena’s throat has gone painfully tight again so she only shakes her head. “Look, it was a weird time. Pete was going through a serious mid life crises that no little red convertible could help with and Myka...well Myka’s always been a little broken hearted, ya know? So as gag inducing as that incestuous romp was, Myka was...maybe not happy but she was content.”

“I understand.” Helena breathes out unsteadily and Claudia only arches an eyebrow.

“Do you?” At Helena’s nod, Claudia rolls her eyes. “Then what’re you doing standing down here talking to me?”

“Well, wish me luck then.” Helena breathes, walking forward on her leadened legs and Claudia just sighs and says.

“Good luck, HG.”

***

She walks past Myka's room over and over and over, and she cannot seem to gather the courage to simply knock on the bedroom door. Her century old heart is pounding and Helena walks past once more before hurrying into her own room.

Her door shuts audibly and Helena leans back against it, considering the slew of names Claudia will come up with for the turn this night has taken but the sound of another door opening and closing steals her focus and Helena only manages to swallow before there is a soft rap at the door.

It's Myka. She knows that knock and those footsteps and she considers feigning sleep for a long time before just opening the door. 

“We need to talk.” Myka says, green eyes sharp and focused and almost business like and Helena opens the door too easily.

“At this time of night?” Helena jokes lamely and she contemplates leaving the door open but when she glances at Myka, at the rigidity stiffening her spine, she decides she may need the privacy.

Myka paces the length of Helena's room and Helena doesn't even attempt to intercept her. She just sits at the corner of her bed, watching Myka and her lovely mind work.

“Myka.” Helena tries softly, nerves shaking her voice audibly and she swallows and clears her throat. “Darling, please.”

She stops moving then, glancing at Helena with a hand on the nape of her neck and huge eyes and Helena tries to smile. Then all the stiffness in her back evaporates and Myka's shoulder's drop.

“Pete says,” Myka begins quietly, her head tipped backwards on her shoulders and her eyes closed as she breathes deeply and then she's looking at Helena. She's pinning her in place with the gold nebula's in her green eyes. “He told me to stay away from people who made me feel like I was hard to love, like-like I wasn't enough.”

“He was right.” Helena says instantly, honestly, wringing her hands together as nerves and fear make her heart flutter behind her ribs. Myka doesn't smile, she only stares and Helena lets her, works her expression open and lets Myka see inside of her.

“But here I am.” Myka whispers, finally looking away from Helena and down at her feet. “And I don't know if I came here to kiss you or hit you.”

Helena would eagerly take either option, would let Myka tear her limb from limb or fill her mouth with her tongue in equal measures.

“Myka, I am sorry.” Helena begins, hesitating when Myka's head lifts in surprise and then Helena feels sick all over again because this was something so simple that she should've given Myka long ago. “The things I said to you...”

“It's okay.” Myka murmurs lips forming a painful smile and Helena shakes her head, pushing away from her dresser to sit beside Myka on the side of her bed. Myka stiffens slightly but allows Helena the space at her side.

“No, it is not. I hurt you...repeatedly...constantly” Helena admits quietly, “I owe you countless, endless apologies because those things I said were lies. Here, with you, is where I want to be most on this earth.”

“Stop.” Myka breathes suddenly, chin dropping and eyes closing. “Just stop because you're apologizing and I don't know if I can forgive you today.”

“I understand if you can't. Today or any other day for that matter.” Helena whispers thickly, staring at Myka's lovely face. “I knew I hurt you. And-god, I tried to ignore it or justify it..but the things you said while under the control of the artifact...I was nothing short of a monster to you.”

“What do you want from me, Helena?” Myka asks after a long moment, tipping her head to meet Helena's gaze. “What do you want? What do you honestly want?”

“I'd like it very much if you were to forgive me for the things that I've done and, more importantly, the things that I have not done.” Helena says truthfully as Myka's eyes turn searching. “You deserve countless good things and I...and I wish to be one of them.”

Myka sucks in a breath and Helena holds hers, finally looking away as her hand lifts to tug at her locket.

“Claudia was kind enough to inform me that you are too good a person for the likes of me.” Helena admits and Myka shakes her head instantly.

“Claudia's young... She's...” Myka tries quietly, trailing off to shake her head.

“Claudia is correct.” Helena insists and Myka sighs, coming across the room one last time to sit down beside Helena on the bed.

“Helena...” Myka sighs, exasperated and tired and Helena closes her eyes at the sound, bowing her head. She feels Myka move after a long moment and then fingers are tipping her chin upwards.

Myka kisses her and Helena doesn't stop her.

She should, perhaps, because there is so much still to talk about. Myka has yet to accept her apology and Helena can feel the weight of words unsaid at her neck and at the small of her back but Myka's mouth is sweet and desperate against hers and Helena can't stop herself from melting into the contact with an unbecoming whimper.

Myka pulls back briefly and Helena wonders blearily if Myka will deliver the blow that she'd been debating early, even turns up her chin to welcome Myka's knuckles against her jaw but instead she glides a thumb across Helena's bottom lip quietly and Helena should have known because Myka has always been so very careful with her.

“Myka.” Helena's voice breaks, emotion sharp at her throat and Myka blinks at her, her expression indecipherable, before kissing her again.

This time Helena kisses back hungrily, tangling her fingers in neat curls and turning Myka's head for better entry into her mouth. Their lips move together clumsily, out of practice and Helena despises that realization even as she drags her mouth down Myka's jaw.

Helena kisses her neck slowly, carefully, tasting the goosebumps that rise and listening to the shaky breaths Myka exhales. But Myka doesn't touch her, keeps her arms at her side even as Helena's mouth turns bruising and Myka's head bows forward slowly with a groan.

In all of their time together they've never gone further than this point, never beyond blistering, open mouthed kisses at the most inappropriate of times. Helena thinks this is another one of those poorly timed moments they seem to be so fond of but Myka turns her head and breathes “Please.” against Helena's cheek and suddenly Helena isn't quiet so sure. 

“We shouldn't.” Helena whispers just in case and Myka inhales then exhales shakily, turning and pressing her forehead hard against Helena's temple for a long moment.

“Okay.” She finally swallows, pulling away from Helena and the inches feel like miles as Helena watches her tuck her hair behind her ears with both shaking hands. “I'll just...”

Myka stands to leave then, color flushing her cheeks and Helena is cursing herself even as she reaches out to grab Myka's wrist, pulling her close and Myka comes with breathless sob.

“Myka.” Helena apologizes softly, pressing her face to her abdomen, breathing against the soft material of her shirt. Myka doesn't hold her closer or push her way, she stands quiet and malleable in Helena's hands, taking broken breaths.

Myka does not ask for many things and the things she does ask for are selfless. She asks for courage and she asks for strength and she asks for honesty. But this is Myka asking, with her beautifully sad eyes, that Helena give her what she deserves. To at least try because she thinks Helena can even though Helena doesn't think she has enough to offer to be even a fraction of what Myka actually deserves. 

Helena presses her mouth to Myka's shirt, kisses the threadbare fabric and revels in Myka's ragged inhalation. She basks in the fact that it's okay for her to want this, that Myka wants this and tightens her grip on Myka's hips before moving her hands to up to her waist and guiding the hem of her tee shirt high and out of the way with her thumbs.

“I'm sorry.” Helena says, glancing up into Myka's glossy eyes and pressing an open mouthed kiss beside her navel. “I'm sorry.”

“ Okay.” Myka whispers, brow bent sadly even as Helena stands, taking Myka's shirt with her and Myka lets her pull it up and off. “Helena...”

Myka's words trail off as Helena eases down to her knees, resting her forehead against the top of her thigh to watch her own fingers brush against the bronze button of her jeans. Helena sighs at her own cowardice before moving to press her mouth to Myka's belly again, both hands moving to hold the backs of her thighs. And Helena doesn't say sorry again but she kisses her apology into Myka's skin, licking her amends against Myka's flesh.

Helena's tongue brushes against denim and Myka's hand finds its way into Helena's hair a moment later and that alone makes Helena groan, hands fumbling up to undo the fasten on her jeans with less fear.

Myka's breathing stutters, the hand in Helena's hair tightens and the world doesn't burn down around them. Myka doesn't turn to dust in her hands and Helena isn't instantly sucked into a burning hell hole. The only heat is radiating from Myka, from her stomach and thighs as Helena helps her out of her jeans and that warmth is dizzyingly welcoming.

“Here. Sit.” Helena urges quietly, standing and nudging Myka to the edge of her bed and Myka does as she asks quietly. “Please.”

And then Helena is on her knees again, leaning up to kiss Myka more. Then Myka is lifting her hips, pulling her underwear down and off herself and Helena can only groan helplessly.

“You are...” Helena exhales in awe, moving so she is kneeling between Myka's long legs and Myka is not blushing. She's watching Helena with glittering dark eyes and parted lips and Helena's words drain away on a breath. Helena leans forward to kiss Myka's right knee, to lick at the tense muscles in her left thigh, to kiss pale skin until she's tasting slick flesh and Myka is gasping quietly.

Helena has imagined this moment, has used her gifted mind to fantasize how Myka would sound and how Myka would taste and how Myka would feel but she never anticipated how she would feel. Anxious and aching and unexpectedly realized. 

One of Myka's hand moves to the back of Helena's neck, beneath the cape of her hair while the other grips tightly at the bedding and Helena only urges her closer, spreads her thighs wider and focuses on keeping rhythm with Myka's uneven breathing.

Helena presses into her with slick fingers, one then two and Myka cries out. Loud enough for anyone in the bed and breakfast to know what they're doing as her body writhes and her eyes flutter as her muscles do the same against Helena's fingertips.

“God. Helena” Myka moans through clenched teeth, entire body snapping forward and eyes shut tightly while she grips the edge of the mattress, trembling through her orgasm. Helena watches in awe, reaches out to trace the flexing abdominal muscles absently and Myka is grabbing her hand, tugging and holding it to her chest so Helena can feel her thundering heart.

After, when Helena has gratefully taken everything Myka is willing to give up from her body and Helena has spent all of herself around Myka's fingers and against her mouth, Helena doesn't sleep.

The sun is starting to rise and Helena can only stare at Myka's naked shoulders, her slender back that disappears into a blanket and the rhythmless rise and fall of her shoulders.

Helena doesn't reach out for her, instead she burrows into the blankets that smells of sweat and sex before closing her eyes and fighting to turn her brain off.

But then Myka is moving, mattress jostling gently and when Helena opens her eyes she is met with a green and gold gaze. And Myka doesn't speak, only swallows so the pink marks on her throat shift before sliding her hand along the mattress, beneath the blanket to hold Helena's fingers in hers.

Her vision is suddenly liquid and Helena blinks, setting a tear free, then another and Myka doesn't look away. Just watches wordlessly and Helena has to close her eyes again.

Helena is not expecting Myka to move closer still but she does, nudging her bare knees against Helena and gripping her hand tightly. “Go to sleep Helena.”

***  
When she wakes, Myka is gone.


End file.
